Fill in the Blank
by SeraphJewel
Summary: Memories may be lost, but the connections still remain. Completely shameless Blaine/Peyton (Paine) with season 3 spoilers and likely some AU.
1. How They're Connected

_Disclaimer: I don't own iZombie or any of its characters._

 **Fill in the Blank**  
Chapter One: How They're Connected

It was very late, but he couldn't imagine trying to sleep after everything that happened. Alone now in the basement of the funeral home, Blaine played back the events of the past few hours. He stared down at his hands that so comfortably held a gun, fingers that pulled the trigger without a moment's hesitation. There was no remorse about killing those men. They kidnapped a woman and would've killed her; he _shouldn't_ feel bad, should he? Except even with that logic, Blaine worried part of the reason he could shrug it off was because his old self was starting to creep back into his mind.

Admittedly, knowing he was a killer before did make the idea of being one now go down easier. Blaine wished other aspects of his past were easier to get a handle on, especially when relating to Peyton. There was a difference between being told information and knowing it. Blaine now knew he could kill; he didn't know the extent of his relationship with Peyton, whatever he told that detective.

A problem for another day. With one employee dead and the other quitting, Blaine was left taking care of the funeral home and the brain business. Both sides flowed together in a strangely natural way. Memories returning or him just settling more into this new life? He couldn't be sure.

He heard his name called and quickly covered the brain he was working on. To his pleasant surprise, it was Peyton coming down the stairs. He was still getting to know her but so far most of the memories surrounding her were good ones. The others treated him with a wary acceptance; Peyton acted more willing, going so far as to protect him from Boss and the press. Those actions and her thanking him now led him to the question that was growing more nagging in his mind.

"Over the past few days some things have been said that led me to believe we, ah..." He hesitated only a moment before spitting it out: "Were we a couple?"

The question caught her off-guard enough that at first all she could do was let out a surprised breath. Blaine wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be, but he felt confident she would be honest with him. Finally she gathered herself together with a quick wetting of her lips.

"No, Blaine, we weren't a couple. You and I..." She trailed off, glancing off to the side as she looked for words. When she looked back at him, her eyes were a little sad. "To be honest with you, maybe we would've been if you weren't... you know, you. I liked you when I thought you were just John Deaux, owner of Shady Plots Funeral Home."

"And you liked me a lot less once you found out I was Blaine DeBeers, maker of zombies and killer of teenagers," he finished for her.

She responded with a weak little smile. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Understandable." And it really was, though a small part of him still felt disappointed in this result. He thought he felt something between the two of them. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. "Still," he went on with a casual smile, "that offer of cards still stands. Though I can understand if I'm not the first number on your speed-dial."

"You wouldn't even make it into the top five." Something about the way Peyton's lip curled and the twinkle in her eye assured him she was only teasing. Blaine let out a breathy laugh and clasped a hand over his heart.

"Ouch. Way to play into the heartless lawyer stereotype." Peyton snorted and gave him a light slap on the arm.

"I'm leaving now. Thank you for this." She held up his card. "I'll see you later." Blaine nodded, eyes following her as she made her way back up the stairs.

Blaine turned up the radio and went back to work. His mood was considerably lighter after Peyton's visit. He might not have his memories but he was still perseptive, and he could definitely feel something between himself and Peyton. Maybe it wasn't something from before, but rather something starting _now_. He sang along with the music, thinking of Peyton as he did.

 _You got the kind of lovin' that would be so smooth. Give me your heart, make it real or else forget about it._


	2. Rules of Gin Rummy

Chapter Two: Rules of Gin Rummy

One of the many menial tasks Don E and Chief gave him was cleaning the funeral home's organ. Blaine might've lost his memory but he wasn't an idiot; he knew a task to get him out of the way when he saw one. Still, running a dust cloth over the keys wasn't the worst way to spend his time. He found he liked the feel of them under his fingers. Experimentally he pressed down and smiled hearing the responding sound.

Blaine slid onto the bench, positioning both hands over the keys and pressed down again. A few more tries got him a chord. Not that he had any idea _which_ chord. He played for a while longer, getting to know each key and their combinations. The last note hung in the air for a few seconds. He could make _music_. For a moment he entertained the idea Don E and Chief sent him here so he could figure that out, but he dismissed it as soon as it entered his mind. Blaine had a feeling neither of them cared about this instrument or how its sound could bring some peace to those who heard it.

After that first day, Blaine spent a lot of his free time at the organ. At first he just played, but soon he started humming and then singing out loud. He started paying attention to melodies on the radio and working to duplicate them on the organ. No one told him he used to do this before or pushed him into doing it now. Blaine chose it all on his own, and that was why he loved it.

He sat at the bench now, letting the music fill the silence. His phone buzzed and he looked at the screen, noting Peyton's name as the incoming call. There was a mix of excitement and concern as he answered. After all, he encouraged her to call if she was feeling jumpy.

"So, you up for a round of Go Fish? Maybe some Gin Rummy?" He agreed and promised to be at her place in a few minutes. He was only at her place once before, but he remembered the way without directions.

Blaine didn't question how he knew the way when he went there the first time, or why he chose there instead of going to Liv and Ravi. Logically it didn't make sense: he knew he wasn't the most welcome presence and none of them had any reason to help him. Yet he didn't hesitate when he knocked on the door and she didn't hesitate when he told her what happened. That moment flashed back in his head as he knocked on her door. This time when she opened, she greeted him with a smile.

"Hey. Come on in. Hope you like wine, because I never play Gin Rummy without it."

"Because gin would be too obvious," he retorted as he stepped inside. She responded with a soft laugh. "So I made it to the top five after all," Blaine continued, heading over to where she had a deck of cards and two glasses of wine waiting.

"You were number four," Peyton admitted. Blaine appreciated how honest they all were with him. It would be so easy for them to lie, to make up a past that painted him as a different man. He wouldn't know any better. Yet time and again they gave him the truth.

Blaine pulled out Peyton's chair and waited for her to sit before sitting himself. She shot him a surprised look. "Did the old me not do that?" he guessed.

"I'm not sure," Peyton said. She focused on shuffling the cards. "So do you actually know the rules to Gin Rummy?"

"I read up on it after you left the funeral home," Blaine confessed. "It's not like I was hoping you'd feel jumpy," he amended, "but just in case." Peyton gave him a smile that warmed him down to his toes. He took his cards, studying them. "So what happened with Liv and everyone?" he wondered.

"Busy, I guess." They both set about shuffling their cards around to form the sets and runs. "I'm a little glad," she told him. Blaine took a card from the deck, raising a questioning eyebrow. "It's easier talking about it with you," Peyton explained, also choosing to draw from the deck. "You know what it's like having your life threatened by those men. It just feels..."

"Less lonely," Blaine supplied. Their eyes met across the table and they smiled at each other. Peyton broke the contact first. Blaine drew another card. It looked like they were both biding their time for Gin. He wouldn't complain; it would draw the hand out a bit longer, giving him more time with Peyton. He would take her company over just about anything else.

The conversation turned a bit lighter as they drew and discarded. Blaine's hand turned out well enough that he knocked, and ended up winning the hand, though it was close. Peyton caught his eye and they exchanged smiles again. They were wearing matching grateful expressions: Blaine glad that Peyton didn't go easy on him for this basically being his first time playing, and Peyton glad he didn't go easy on her to make her feel better.

They played a few more rounds. Neither of them bothered with keeping track of points. There was some wine consumed between them but no more than a glass. He probably could've spent all night talking and playing cards with her if he didn't notice Peyton yawning.

"I better get going," Blaine said, rising to his feet. "You've had enough to lose sleep over the past few days without me adding to it."

"Right." Peyton followed him to the door. "Thanks again for dropping by."

"Hang out with a beautiful woman or sit alone in an empty funeral home. It wasn't exactly a tough decision." He worried he pushed a bit too far by calling her beautiful, but her softened expression assured him otherwise. Enough that he grew a bit bold. "Maybe you can drop by and keep me company there if _I'm_ feeling jumpy."

"I'd like that." She reached out and touched his arm briefly. "Good night, Blaine."

"Good night, Peyton," he returned. The warmth of her touch lingered all the way back to the funeral home.


	3. Heartbreak Mend

Chapter Three: Heartbreak Mend

Every morning he did the same things: wake up, take a shower, check to see if his original hair color was growing back. It didn't make logical sense, but Blaine was convinced that as long as he kept his hair bleached, he could hold back his old memories. If the roots showed a peek of natural color, he would immediately touch them up. Another day of being the self he knew.

He understood why no one liked the old Blaine. Hell, _he_ didn't like the old Blaine. The guy was a looming threat in his mind. The worst of it was Blaine had no idea what would be the first Domino. The most random things seemed to trigger Liv's zombie visions; what if that worked the same way for his memories? He was glad for the funeral home and his new lounge singing career to keep his mind off... well, his mind.

And there was Peyton Charles, of course. She was always worth thinking about. She seemed to think he was worth it, too.

Which was nice, since even his own father hated him. He was still shaken from the visit. The one member of his family around, the one person he thought could give him a glimmer of hope in his old life couldn't stand the sight of his own son. Blaine ran fingers through his hair and let out a shaky breath. Peyton rubbed his shoulders and he tilted his head up, giving her a weak smile.

"That could've gone better."

"I know it wasn't the heartfelt reunion you were expecting," she said. Blaine couldn't help the snort that escaped.

"Understatement." His hand dropped helplessly on the desk. "Peyton, what kind of monster was I?" Her mouth dropped open; as he didn't really expect an answer, he kept on going. "If I was that bad at age _eleven_ -" Blaine stopped, unwilling to even say the rest out loud. "Did you know he's the first family member I've heard from since I lost my memory?" he mentioned. "And I didn't even know he existed until his lawyer contacted me. What if they're all like that? What if-" He stopped again, but this time voiced his worry out loud. "What if my mother hates me for what I did, too?"

"Hey." Peyton caught his gaze, squeezing his shoulder. "Even if what he said was true, that doesn't mean everything in your past was bad."

"Maybe," he allowed. Her conviction made him want to believe it, too. Blaine reached up to cover her hand in his. "I'm really glad you're here, Peyton." She responded with a smile, their fingers interlocking.

"Anytime."

It took a while for Blaine's heart to resume its normal pace after that, and even longer for his smile to fade.

Later that evening as he tried chasing away his concerns with music, he caught some familiar but unexpected faces at the bar. Liv and Major showing their support lifted his spirits and gave him a ray of hope for this new life. He acknowledged them with a nod and Liv returned it with a little smile and wave. _Don't come back,_ he told his old self. _Ever._

After his set, Blaine went to get a drink at the bar. He saw Peyton was there and would've welcomed her warmly if he didn't catch the look on her face.

"You okay?" he asked her worriedly. She met his gaze but shook her head, choosing to answer by taking a sip from her glass. Blaine put a hand on her shoulder and guided her out back so they could talk more privately. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Did you get more messages on your Twitter?"

"No." Peyton let out a humorless laugh. "I almost wish I did. After Ravi said... well, you know." Blaine nodded, waiting patiently. "After he said that, I went over to his place to talk it over. Except he had someone with him." Blaine understood the implications right away and took her hand.

"I'm so sorry."

"God," Peyton breathed. "It's like I have the worst luck with men lately. I thought I could read people better than this."

"I hope you can," Blaine said, "because of how you've read me so far."

"Yeah," Peyton agreed with a smile. "I guess I haven't completely lost my touch." It suddenly occurred to Blaine that they were still holding hands. She was clearly not in the right place for that, so he released his grip and put a respectable distance between them. Peyton didn't seem to notice. "I should be getting home," she said. "You better keep me updated on how you're doing with the memory thing."

"I will," he promised. "Good night, Peyton."

"Good night," she returned. "And thanks for the pep talk." Blaine smiled, reaching to squeeze her fingers again.

"Anytime."


	4. Familiar Things

Chapter Four: Familiar Things

For a while, Blaine was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep. It was bad enough he had the touch of Peyton's skin, the warmth of her lips and the weight of her body to keep him awake. The persistent thought that his old self would sneak back in bothered him, too. Blaine felt guilty for wanting to discover no memories come Saturday morning. But the more he thought of it, the more Blaine knew that such selfishness was a trait of his old self. He needed to be better.

He did eventually sleep and, as far as he was aware, had no dreams. The next morning when he searched his mind and found nothing, he felt more helpless than relieved. However Blaine felt about his old memories, Liv and Major were counting on them. He was a little stunned when Peyton took his hand and led him into her room.

"I wanted to remember," he told her once the door was closed.

"I know," she assured him, pressing against him and pressing kisses against his neck. He tilted his head with a sigh, shivering a little feeling her hand slide up under his shirt. "It's not your fault it didn't work."

Blaine pulled away from her lips so he could look in her eyes. "How can you see good in me?"

"Someone has to," Peyton answered, leaning in for a kiss. Blaine pressed back, pulling her against him.

The memory serum hadn't worked, yet there was something very familiar about being with Peyton like this. And it wasn't just that he probably had sex before; it was Peyton _specifically_. Yet even then, Blaine knew this was different from that other moment. With every touch and kiss, Blaine hoped he was giving Peyton good memories to cancel out whatever bad happened between them before.

Later a song popped into Blaine's head while he was in the shower. This was not an unusual occurrence: once he heard a song on the radio once or twice, Blaine could remember it and transpose it to the piano. But this one he was fairly sure he never heard on the radio before. Why did he know this melody? How could the words be so clear to him? _Bright are the stars that shine. Dark is the sky. I know this love of mine will never die._

Peyton was waiting for him with a fresh cup of coffee. Liv was waiting too, her expression expectant and hopeful. "I didn't remember anything," he said before she could even ask. He took the coffee so he could focus on that rather than Liv's crestfallen expression.

"Nothing?" she echoed, almost pleading.

"Well..." Blaine swallowed down more coffee. "A song came to me while I was in the shower that I don't think I heard before." Liv only stared in response, both eyebrows raised. "I know you were hoping for more," Blaine continued apologetically. "But that's all I've got. I'm not even sure it's from before I took the cure."

"Okay," Liv sighed out after a long silence. "I'll tell Ravi."

Blaine felt a little awkward after that, so after a few sips of coffee he saw himself out. Peyton called to him and he waited for her at the door.

"Hey. I don't think she blames you. She's just really worried about what this means for her and Major."

"I know," Blaine assured her. He reached for her hand. "And this is probably a bad time, but... you know how you said we weren't a couple?" This time Peyton's eyebrows were the ones going up. Blaine used his grip on her hand to pull her a little closer. "How would you feel if we were one now?"

Blaine might not know where that song came from, but he did know he was thinking of Peyton when it popped up. He didn't have the memories to back it up, but Blaine sensed he never felt this way about someone before.

Peyton drew herself closer still, tilting her head to press a kiss on his mouth. "I'd feel pretty good," she whispered against his lips. She pulled back, her smile turning a bit more teasing. "You'll have to tell me later what song you remembered."

"Come by the lounge tonight," Blaine invited her. "I'll sing it for you."

Peyton snuck in one more kiss. "It's a date." She slipped away and Blaine made his way back to the funeral home, humming that song along the way.


	5. Nevermind

Chapter Five: Nevermind

For their first official date as a couple, Blaine decided to take Peyton to a dog-friendly internet cafe he discovered. He discovered the place while getting food for Don E and Chief. Not only was the food good but he loved when dogs would wander from their owners to his table. He always tried to get a table close to the dogs for just that reason. Blaine knew Peyton would love the place more than any fancy five-star restaurant.

He already claimed a table for them when she arrived. He rose to his feet and greeted her with a light kiss on the cheek. "You look beautiful," he complimented, though that was hardly a surprise. She was captivating even in her pajamas and layers of socks.

"You're looking pretty fine yourself," Peyton returned. "Nice to know colors exist in your wardrobe."

"Tell me about it." It was a bit concerning how long it took to find the blue shirt he was currently wearing. Blaine wasn't sure if his old self just liked black, if he was purposefully playing into the "bad guys wear black" stereotype, or if he couldn't be bothered finding anything colorful to wear. Blaine didn't really consider himself fashion savvy, but it would be nice to not dress like he was in a funeral home twenty-four seven.

The way Peyton's eyes appreciated him was just one more reason to do a wardrobe makeover.

They sat down and ordered. It wasn't long before a dog wandered their way. Its owner was busy on their laptop, the dog's leash tethered to their chair. Blaine grinned and offered his hand for the Labrador to sniff.

"Hello there," Peyton said, reaching to scratch the dog's ears. "What's your name, sweetie?" She reached to check the dog's tag. " 'Pearl'. You are a very pretty lady, Pearl." She ran her hand along the dog's side, inspiring some excited tail-wagging. Blaine's heart swelled watching Peyton love on the dog.

The two gave their canine visitor a few more scratches and rubs, and Blaine even got her to shake and sit. Soon the owner called her back and they were forced to focus on their drinks.

"I had no idea about this place," Peyton mentioned. "They don't allow pets in our building. I feel like I'd come here every day just to pet the dogs."

"Most of the owners are good about it," Blaine assured her. "A few have told me they appreciated me distracting their dog while they worked." He caught Peyton's expression and gave her an uncertain look back. "What?"

"You come here a lot?"

"Once or twice a week." He sipped his coffee, then added: "I think I owned a dog once, but they ran away or died." He hadn't meant to bring this up, but being in this place with Peyton made him feel safe. "It's a bittersweet feeling. Then I get this image of some kind of plant, and I get angry."

"A memory?" Peyton guessed. He had her full attention now. "So the memory serum is working, after all?"

"I don't know," Blaine shrugged. "I don't know if it's the serum or if I'm getting pieces back on my own." He reached for her hand and squeezed. "You were right that I didn't torture animals, Peyton. I loved my dog."

"Of course you did." She leaned forward to catch his lips in a kiss. The embrace didn't last long, but it was enough to leave a lingering smile on both their faces. They drew away again so they could eat, pausing between bites for some light conversation. They finished about an hour later with Peyton promising she would drop by the lounge that night.

As promised, Blaine sang the mysterious tune that popped in his head. It turned out to be called "And I Love Her". Not once since he landed the lounge singer gig did he feel nervous at the piano, but from the moment he struck the first chords of that song, Blaine was barely keeping himself from shaking and his voice from wavering. He didn't dare look in Peyton's direction when he was finished. He did a few more songs before finishing his set.

Peyton was out back waiting for him. Blaine prepared himself for whatever reaction she would have to his song. What he got was her putting her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

"You're getting to be a Beatles fan," she commented once they parted. "Makes sense after one of their songs landed you this job."

"Right." He wasn't sure if she read more into it than that, and even less sure if he _wanted_ her to. Before he could dwell too much on it, Blaine quirked his lip up teasingly. "You know this makes you my groupie now, right?"

"Do lounge singers even have groupies?" she retorted. Blaine laughed, tenderly pressing his forehead against hers.

"Who needs them when I've got you?"

"Good answer." He laughed again, melting against her as their lips met.

He wished he could take Peyton home with him. The problem was he had no idea where he lived, if he even had an apartment somewhere. He slept at the funeral home, which wasn't the best place for a romantic mood. Blaine added "get an apartment" to his mental to-do list. Tonight he wanted to concentrate on Peyton. His memories had no trouble in that area, yet his hands and mouth still wanted to map out every inch of her again.

The radio alarm woke him with "Smells Like Teen Spirit". Blaine listened, feeling an unexpected wave of sadness and loss. He tried closing his eyes again but that only brought up images. A young girl weeping on his shoulder, saying _he's dead, he's dead._ Or was he the one weeping, saying _she's_ _dead_? Even after Peyton turned off the radio, the pain it brought up lingered. Peyton turned to him, no doubt intending to greet him with a kiss.

"Are you okay?" She touched his cheek and he realized he was crying. Blaine took a few shaking breaths to calm down, sitting up in bed.

"I remembered something," he confessed. He swallowed and wiped off his tears. "I remember finding out that Kurt Cobain was dead."

"I remember that day, too." Peyton gently rubbed his shoulders. "I couldn't stop crying." Blaine nodded mutely. There was more to the memories than that, but he couldn't speak past the emotion just yet. Peyton's kiss on his cheek was enough to encourage him on.

"My mother introduced me to his music. She... she once told me that 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' reminded her of me." Peyton made a soft noise of amusement but didn't try to interrupt. "She would lock herself in her room a lot, but she would always come out when _Nirvana_ released a new album. When I got home from school that April day, all I wanted was to see her." He took in a shuddering breath, wishing he could block out the rest. But now that the threads were connecting, they refused to break apart again. "All I wanted was to talk to my mother about Kurt Cobain, but she-"

Blaine couldn't continue; the grief was too much. He could remember knocking and calling out to his mother until her silence forced to him to pick the lock. He remembered entering the room and finding her there, lifeless and cold. His idol and his mother both gone.

Peyton's voice broke through his melancholy thoughts and with a jolt Blaine realized she was singing the words to "Smells Like Teen Spirit". Blaine blinked rapidly, staring at her in surprise. He had no idea she had such a good voice. He listened to her for a while before joining in. It was better than any memorial service he ever conducted at Shady Plots.


End file.
